Four to the Throne
by happy ametuer
Summary: Four thousand years ago there were four siblings: Kratos, Zelos, Bia, and Nike. Then there was only Kratos. What happened to the other three?
1. Siblings

This is based off the four minor Greek demigods and demigoddesses Cratos (Kratos, Kratus), Zelus (Zelos), Bia, and Nike. These four are sons and daughters of the goddess Styx and a Titan whose name I don't remember off the top of my head. They became constant companions of Zeus after the war waged between the deathless gods and the Titans.

I base my characters after what their namesakes represent. Kratos-strength, Zelos-rivalry, Bia-force, Nike-victory. Everything else I'm working to keep original. Just please remember that my Zelos in this is not our favorite Tethe'alla Chosen (well, our only Tethe'alla Chosen) Zelos Wilder.

This is basically a back-burner story so it won't last over fifteen to twenty chapters at the very most (which is plenty for a fic like this).

* * *

Chapter One: Siblings

"Kratos . . ."

Kratos doesn't bother turning to Yuan. He'll leave as soon as his business with Kratos is done and give Yggdrasill the same report: he won't come back.

Yuan steps next to Kratos' side and stays silent for a moment. ". . . Tethe'alla has a new Chosen."

"Drop the casual act, Yuan, and go back to Mithos and tell him that I will have no hand in the Age of lifeless Beings and no further associations with Cruxis."

"I'm not here because of that," says Yuan.

Kratos rolls his eyes. Well if he's going to take that approach . . . "Then why _are_ you here?"

Yuan solemnly answers, "I thought it would be better if I told you this new Chosen's name instead of you finding it out by yourself later."

Kratos gives him a flat stare.

"His name is Zelos."

Although there is a slight twitch on Kratos' face, he retains his flat stare. "So?" he goes. "Why should I care if his name is Zelos, Marcus, or Fabio? It makes no difference to me."

"I was wondering how you would react," Yuan states as if he got the sad response he was expecting.

"The only thing notable is that they finally forgot about their so-called Ghost of Hellfire. 'Should a man be named Zelos then the Ghost of Hellfire shall arise and burn that man's soul.' Humph. It's about time that old wives' tale was laid to rest."

Yuan turns to leave. "I'm sorry."

"Humph."

And so Yuan departs.

When Kratos is alone with no ear to hear him, he mutters, "Zelos. Humph. Why couldn't that name just die out entirely? I suppose that babe will be followed by two sisters named Bia and Nike." Then he pauses in silence. ". . . And a brother named Kratos."

"Bia . . . Nike . . . Zelos . . . Forgive me . . ."

* * *

Kratos approaches an aging man with steel eyes and gives a quick shallow bow. "You called for me?"

The man responds, "Yes, I did. I need you to observe the final training of the new recruits."

"Yes, sir."

"And also," he adds, "get that idiot brother of yours and have him help some. I swear he is such a shame that I am humiliated to call him my son, even if he is just a second son."

Kratos makes no reply.

The man continues, "Irresponsible, worthless, and lazy. That boy is just—"

"Now, now. You don't have to complement me."

A young man just two years Kratos' minor of dark red hair tied back and lavish clothes enters the room. He smiles with cold eyes.

The man ignores the youngest and addresses Kratos, "There is your younger brother. Be grateful you don't have to trek this entire city for him. Take the whelp and do as you're ordered."

"Yes, sir." Kratos turns away and leaves. The brother follows him out with faux joy.

"Are we going on a field trip, big brother? Great! I love field trips!" he mockingly cheers.

As they enter the hallway Kratos replies, "You should take this more seriously even if it is just busy work for you. We are checking the newest recruits' progress before they are sent into battle. Do you want Tethe'alla to win or just send inadequate soldiers out to waste their lives?"

"You need to stop taking after Father," the other remarks.

"And _you_," Kratos counters, "need to get your act together. Zelos, that attitude of yours will get you and everyone around you killed. This war with Sylvarant is not a game!"

Zelos makes no response, but it's clear to Kratos that his mindset hasn't budged.

Kratos sighs. Why must things be this way?

When they arrive at the training sector of the imperial city, captains escort them to the observatory balcony and watch behind the one-way mirror, obscured judges.

Every new recruit performs each drill marvelously, aside from the occasional slacker and hopelessly untalented. In Kratos' eyes, this set of aspiring soldiers proved promising.

"He's got potential . . ." mutters Zelos.

"Who?" Kratos asks.

Zelos remains silent.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," he replies.

"So which one?"

Zelos hesitantly points, ". . . The one doing the stumbles."

Kratos looks and sighs. "Zelos, he won't make it. In a war you must have the ability to fight, not just the potential."

"He has heart," Zelos notes out. "If I want someone to defend my life I would want the one with heart, not apathy. He'll fight to the very last he has and make it instead of lie down and let himself die. _That_ is what I call a soldier."

Kratos shakes his head. When will he learn? "Soft emotion is for peacetime, not war. If someone has sympathy for the enemy then the enemy can take advantage of that. What we need is skill in this godlessly long war."

Zelos scoffs, "Fuh. You're just like Father, willing to use everything possible to win, trading your soul for a sword."

"I'm not Father," Kratos states. "I'm me and me alone."

"No wonder you're his favorite," he spats. "You're a replica of him, just what he wanted from his marriage with Mother."

Kratos pulls his fist up and flings the side of his fist against the sturdy glass. "_I am not Father!_"

Zelos doesn't look at Kratos. Instead, he peers off into the training room as if trying to determine something confusing him.

"What?" Kratos blandly asks. "What could possibly be in there that really interests you so much?"

Zelos squints his eyes slightly for a moment . . . then "NIKE!!"

"What?!" cries Kratos. He whips to the glass. After a brief search he finds a small girl, about four years old, standing to the side of the room silently watching the recruits.

Kratos and Zelos dash down the stairs towards the room's entrance. They flood down the stairs and rush through the doorway, but ram into each other when they try to do so at the same time. Kratos stabs his elbow into Zelos—hearing a satisfying crunch and a harsh grunt—and pushes himself into the room and makes for the tiny girl, scooping her up into his arms in one swoop.

Kratos pants from the wasted adrenaline as he keeps the girl secure. "N . . . Nike . . ."

Nike says nothing and just hooks her tiny fingers around Kratos' cheek.

"Bassard . . ." Zelos returns with a bloody nose. "Why'd yoo do thad?!"

"Nice face, Zelos," Kratos taunts. "It's a big improvement."

Zelos halfheartedly glares at Kratos before turning away muttering, "I shuld've been the one do pick 'er up . . ."

Kratos tells him, "Deal with it."

"Such a pleasure to see you two here."

Kratos and Zelos turn to find a man of large stature and several honors on his uniform. His eyes pierce and are only accented by his pepper gray hair.

"Major Asand," Kratos blandly greets. "It is a pleasure to see you too but we must be leaving."

Asand nods understandingly. "I see. So you finally came to get her."

"Did Father send Nike here?" questions Zelos.

Asand nods again. "I'm afraid so. He sees her as a good luck charm of a sort. I cannot disobey his orders due to rank but I was able to sneak her here after he left."

"If you think you can advertise yourself as the helpless martyr to us then you are sadly mistaken," Kratos calmly puts. "Next time Father sends her to this sector you send her back, understood?"

A steely gleam appears in Asand's eye. "One day your noble blood will not matter. When that day comes be sure not to be on the wrong side of conflict."

With that the major leaves.

As they themselves leave, Zelos snorts, "Fuh. Major Asa'd. More like major ass. He just doesn'd like to be bossed around by the nobilidy even if what we demand do happen is common sense."

"Not everything the nobility demands is based in common sense," Kratos reminds. "Don't forget what Earl Artle ordered his servants to do."

Zelos cringes. "Ugh. Aren' some of them still in therapy?"

"Sadly so."

When they reach the upper floor closer to the exit, Zelos steps to the side and says, "Waid. Led me take care of my nosebleed."

Kratos waits as Zelos takes out a healing lotion and rubs it on the bridge of his nose. As his nose rapidly heals he accidentally takes a sniff of the fumes from the lotion and gags once. "You know, they shuld make these healing lotions scented. Thad way they won't smell like shit." He sniffs once more to test his now-healed nose and nods in approval after he's done gagging over the smell.

Kratos asks, "Well what scents do you recommend?"

"I don't know," he goes. "Apple, orange, pineapple, broccoli, baloney, sausage, beef, cake, wet dog, anything to get rid of that damn smell!"

"I hear they're going to make it into an edible gel for internal bleeding," comments the eldest.

The younger brother shudders. "Now they _really_ have to make a different flavor. I'm not eating something that smells like fresh shit."

"Please, Zelos," Kratos irritably inquires, "don't cuss too much in front of Nike. In fact, it would probably be best if you cut back on your foul language and find more creative insults. It will help your brain."

"Fuh," he snorts. "It's not as if she's watching me all the time."

Kratos holds Nike in front of Zelos. "Ah, but she always is. She is always watching you. Always."

Zelos makes a faux distressed face. "That little stalker!"

At the very look of Zelos' face, Nike giggles, "Heeheehee!"

"Ah!" he teasingly wails. "Stop laughing at me!"

Nike giggles, "Heeheehee!"

"Stop laughing at meee . . . !" he wails again.

"Heeheeheeheeheehee!"

"Aahhh . . . !" Zelos puts his hand over his heart. "I'm gravely injured! I surrender to your mighty cuteness . . ."

Kratos holds the four-year-old back in his arms. "And thus the paragon of victory wins again."

Zelos comments, "You know, we should send her to the Sylvaranti royal family. They'll be surrendering to her in no time."

Kratos turns to Zelos in alarm. "Don't ever let that slip around Father. He will apply that to his military plans. You know how he somehow thinks that Nike is possessed by some sort of angel of victory."

Zelos flinches. "I know! I would never let that happen! Don't worry, I won't let it slip around him, but you should know that he might come up with it himself."

"Superstitious old fool . . ." Kratos curses. If anything happened to Nike . . .

When they arrive to the nobility's division, a young woman of a finely trimmed body and a large bust size spots them and hurries to their side. "Zelos! Kratos! You found her!"

"Biaaaaaaa!" Nike squeals in delight.

Bia runs up and takes her from Kratos. "Thank the gods! I almost thought Father finally sent her off! You have no idea how scared I was."

Zelos remarks, "I think I do have an idea considering that we're twins."

Bia nips, "If the old wives' tale of twins being in sync with each other held any truth then I would have been able to understand your wacky mind."

"Ahahahah!" laughs Kratos.

Bia turns on him, "Don't you start, Kratos. You're an idiot, too."

"Oooo!" cheers Zelos. "_Burn!_"

Bia gets on to Zelos, "And if Kratos is an idiot then you don't even have two wits to rub together."

To hide his chuckle Kratos fakes a cough in his hand. Bia narrows her eyes at him warningly.

"Er, Bia," goes Zelos, "shouldn't you be getting back home? I mean, you don't have a corset on, don't you?"

Bia rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes, I do have a corset on. I hate that thing . . . It binds me very tightly, especially around my chest. I can barely breathe."

Kratos gives Zelos a look that says "nice going, genius" in response to his failed change in conversation.

"Errr, it's getting cold outside!" Zelos tries. "Nike is wearing a thin summer dress. Why don't you go and get her changed into warmer clothes."

Bia gives them a flat stare. "If you two don't want me around all you have to do is say so instead of trying to be polite about it."

Bia leaves with Nike in her arms.

"I think Bia is getting tired of us fighting all the time," notes Zelos.

"Not all the time," Kratos comments. "Right now we don't."

Zelos gets a gloomier tone, "That's because we don't typically fight around Nike because she's the baby of the family and Bia is like cold water whenever we get on to each other."

"I need to get back to Father," Kratos mentions. "I still have the report over the newest recruits."

"Ah, yes, Father," goes Zelos. "Go report to Father and then to the fair Princess Soleille."

"Zelos . . ." Kratos warningly growls.

Zelos doesn't heed the warning, "Just do something original instead of being Father's perfect heir. Besides, your courtship with Soleille isn't going to end well for you."

Kratos remarks, "You do realize that if my courtship does turn well then I would become king someday and you would be prince. That is a lot of power."

Zelos scoffs, "Fuh. Power. That's what started this war in the first place. The higher-up's feelings got hurt and they used that power to start this entire conflict. I don't care about political power. Anyway, you're not suited to be king."

"I am not inadequate," Kratos growls.

Zelos snips, "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase that. Kingship is not for you. Just because I don't think you should be king doesn't mean I'm calling you inadequate. I just don't think that's what you're meant for."

"Then what, Zelos?" He rubs the sides of his forehead. "Let me humor you and ask what you think I'm meant for."

Zelos narrows his eyes. "You know what? I'm just going to let you figure it out for yourself. I'll leave you in the dark."

Kratos growls, "You always make things difficult and when you have someone where you want them you always shove them away. Quit toying with me!"

"You make things hard, too!" Zelos snaps. "Just go back to Father and let him plan your life!"

"You are such an asshole!" Kratos storms off.

"Bite me!" Zelos shouts after him.

When Kratos leaves Zelos turns around and makes for some random direction. He stops next to a wall and slams his fist onto it.

"Damn it . . ." curses Zelos. "Why does he have to have all this potential and not see it? I see it clearly and Father sees it too and is using it to his own advantage. It's not fair. If he's going to waste it then I should have it. It's not fair. Why does he have to be Father's little puppet and throw his life and all his gifts away like that? Why?"

"It's not fair . . ."


	2. The Situation at Hand

I actually wrote this after the third chapter. Didn't realize that there was a middle to it until I read through the third. ^^

Kratos (Cratos, Cratus, Potestas). He was the son of the Titan Pallas (I finally remember his name!) and the goddess Styx and was the spirit of strength, power, force, and might. He completely accepted Zeus' orders and justice completely and saw that justice as the only possible justice (which will sound familiar to us regarding Mithos) and took Zeus' thoughts as his own and orders as top priorities.

According to my sources, he experienced no friendships or pities because his only value system is the one imposed to him by Zeus (which seems to be willing on Kratos' part). From what I can see, Kratos' relationship to Zeus is like that of a puppet and it's controller. The only exception is in the Dark-Hunter novel called "Dream Warrior" by Sherrilyn Kenyon.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Situation at Hand

"Lord Kratos, it's terrible! I'm sorry I must tell you this sad news but Princess Soleille is just toying with your courtship with her!" woes a lady of the peerage.

"Hmm-hm. I'm sure she is," he apathetically responds. He heard this speech before. Ever since the pause of war came just half a year ago, women have been scrambling for the hearts and hands of the surviving men. Competition between the women has become fierce and hostile.

"No, really, my lord!" she cries. "She just confided with her maids just today! I overheard her and thought that you must know the truth."

"I appreciate the thought," he dismissively says.

She moves on to the part where the self-advertising begins, "I just thought that, even though this news is sorry indeed, that you would want to hear it from someone _trustworthy_ rather than pay the price later. Should you _ever_ need a willing ear to speak to, just know that I am here for you."

Kratos gives the final dismissal, "I will. Thank you for your kindness."

"It is my greatest pleasure, my lord." So she leaves, thinking her actions successful.

Then Kratos sighs as he sees his brother making his presence known along with a mocking grin.

"I'm sorry, Lord Kratos, but Princess Soleille is a b**ch!" he teasingly chirps. "However, _I'm_ not a b**ch; _I_ won't break your heart; _I'll_ be your perfect lover!"

"Drop it, Zelos," Kratos moans. "I don't have the energy to deal with you."

He continues, "Oh, Kratos! You can't understand my infinite devotion to you! You are the sun of my sky, the bread to my butter, the worth to my while!"

"Stop, Zelos," he groans. "People are looking."

At that Zelos gets on one knee and takes his brother's hand. "Lord Kratos, the very love of my life! Marry me!"

Kratos yanks his hand back. "Alright! You have succeeded in pissing me off! _Now_ will you stop?!"

As Zelos gets up he mentions, "They say that teasing is a sign of love."

"It's 'love' I don't need," Kratos counters.

Zelos turns away in a huff, "_Hurumph!_ You have broken my heart! Now I will go home to where I will cry in my room! After which I will go and slander every eligible maiden to where I will be the only one whom you can marry!"

"Stop . . . !" he growls. "You're not helping me at all. Just let me deal with those petty girls my way and not add to the list of stressors they give me."

"What's disturbing is that I'm pinpoint accurate on the entire thing," he comments.

"Why aren't _you_ in any demand?" Kratos questions.

With a casual face he answers, "It's because I'm generally an asshole."

"What's sad is that you know it and won't change it," Kratos grumbles.

Zelos pats Kratos on the back and comfortingly states, "Don't worry. You're an ass too. Remember that Mother always told us to be ourselves."

"Isn't there anything that you should be doing?" asks Kratos.

"I'm the second son, remember?" he says with a tense smile. "I'm just the son who has to make sure not to send his life down the gutter."

"I'm taking that as a no."

"What about you?" he wonders. "What are you doing in the castle? 'Guaranteeing the future of the Aurion line' as Father would proudly call it?"

Kratos growls, "Don't you dare label me as a stud."

"Isn't that what heirs basically are?" Zelos prompts. "Think about it. Heirs get the money, the top education, the title, and then must make sure nothing crumbles at their feet and procreate to be sure that there is a next generation to pass everything on to."

Kratos turns on Zelos and snarls, "If you are so damn well begrudging of the fact that you are the second son and must build yourself up from the position you have in life then go and find a way to end this hellish war!"

"And maybe I will!" Zelos snaps as he walks away. "_Then_ I'd have some worth that people will actually notice!"

Kratos sighs. "What is _with_ him?!"

* * *

Zelos storms off into the streets. He huffs out his breath as he calms down and growls, "Why does it always end like that? We used to get along . . ."

"No . . . No . . . !"

Off along the way is a home where a uniformed soldier meets with a woman at her door. In his offering hands is the flag of Tethe'alla. The newly widowed woman sobs at the very sight of it.

Zelos watches her sorrow and mutters, "Find a way to end this hellish war . . . Maybe I will . . ."

* * *

When Zelos got home he went straight to his bedroom and paced next to the small studies desk on the far side of the room. His muttered words would be incoherent to anyone who eavesdropped.

". . . In order to stop this war I first must at least have a considerate amount of power . . ." He stops for a moment. "Kratos would have some political power . . . 'Find a way to end this hellish war.' Fuh!" Zelos punches the wall. "Damn hypocrite . . . Has so much power and so many talents and yet he won't put them to any use . . . I could've used them . . ." He separates his fist from the sturdy wall and continues to pace again.

". . . Where can I get this power? I don't have the political strength to call upon the kings for some sort of peace treaty. My own father or anyone of like status would laugh in my face if I even suggested a peace treaty . . . Physical power . . . No . . . Not enough political power to call any of the soldiers . . . Magical power . . ."

He stops. "That's a thought. The problem being that I'm a human with no elvan blood, not even a drop. Now Exspheres do exist but even if I could use magic it would take a more incredibly advanced Exsphere than what we have now to increase my strength to the degree that I could pull something off like the half-elvan fire sniper that assassinated a king of Sylvarant's a hundred years ago. Wanted equal rights for his kind like our king of the time promised him. Poor fool actually believed the scumbag . . ."

He begins pacing again. "It still stands that even with an Exsphere I wouldn't be strong enough in the first place. What would . . ." Zelos stops again. "The summon spirits. They would be powerful enough. Even still, I don't know much about them. I don't know how to use their power or how to even persuade them to allow me to use their power. I don't even know the requirements . . ."

Then he remembers, "I still have that summon spirit book that I found at the student market years ago during my academy years. It was on sale for about ten gald. Ironic that I thought it boring and useless after a page or two and I would need it now . . ."

Zelos moves to his shelves next to his desk and searches through them. He frowns at his failure to locate it and searches through them again. "That's strange . . . I always put my books here . . . Did I leave it somewhere strange? . . ." He skims through his memory. "Hmm . . . Maybe a walk will help me . . ."

* * *

Bia skims through the dolls, searching for the right one for Nike. She makes a selection and holds it out to her baby sister. "Do yooouuu . . . like this one?"

Nike chirps, "Getting warmer!"

"Okay! . . ." She picks up a similar doll. "Do yooouuu . . . like this doggie?"

"Colder!"

"Oh . . ." She sets the dog down and picks up a cat of a similar color to the one she picked up earlier. "Do yooouuu . . . like this kitty?"

Nike's eyes light up and she peeps, "YES! I love it! I love it! I love it! Please!"

Bia laughs, "Ahahahahah! Alright. Just let me pay for it."

Nike watches her sister with giggling fits escaping her. A shadowy figure sneaks up from behind the tiny girl . . .

"EEEKK!!"

Bia whips around. "_Nike!_" Then she grunts a sigh when she sees her oldest brother. "Kratos! Don't do that!"

Nike laughs and laughs in her brother's arms as he himself plays innocent, "What is it that you don't want me to do?"

"Pick her up from behind and make her scream!" she carps.

Kratos continues to give Bia that blank, innocent face. "I don't understand what you mean." He glances at Nike. "She's screaming? I thought she was laughing."

Bia grinds her teeth.

Kratos asks Nike, "Are you screaming?"

"Yes!" she cheeps.

"Oh . . ." He sets her down. "I am very sorry, my lady."

"You should be," the four-year-old laughs.

Bia hands Nike the cat doll and speaks to Kratos, "Is the king thinking about calling for a peace treaty any time soon? This war has been going on for far too long . . ."

Kratos shakes his head sadly. "No. His bloated ego won't allow it. I fear that Sylvarant's king is of the same mind."

Bia frowns. "This pause in war would have been a perfect opportunity, but no, everyone's hurt feelings are too important to put an end to senseless war and killing."

Kratos begins to walk and prompts Bia to follow. She takes Nike's tiny hands and starts a slow pace for Nike.

"Bia," Kratos begins, "I believe that I may end up being sent sometime soon. Not this week or the next but . . . soon. I will definitely be in battle by the midpoint of this year."

Bia's only response is, "I'm not really surprised. In fact, I'm surprised that Father hasn't sent you or Zelos into battle yet."

Kratos lowers his head. "I am Father's heir, so of course I haven't been sent out to battle yet. I am . . ." He grimaces. ". . . the Aurion line's hope for continuation."

"A stud . . ." Bia bluntly translates. "Did Zelos call you that?"

"His resentment against me and his position as the second son is thoroughly noted," he replies.

"Zelos holds a lot of demons in his life," Bia informs. "Although Nike will be spared because she is so young, you and I will get a lot of anguish from him that should be directed at Father due to the fact that he just rubs the fact in, like salt to a wound. He envies you for your inherited power and laments on the things that he wishes that he could do."

"A waste of time and energy," Kratos criticizes.

"We all have flaws," Bia says. "Zelos just needs his head knocked around until he gets his priorities straight. Life's tough, and he needs to quit complaining and take it like a man should."

Kratos supposes, "Perhaps he would have learned that earlier if he were sent off into battle."

"Yes, maybe. I don't know why he wasn't sent off since he doesn't exactly have anything keeping him."

"Father believes him to be useless and weak," answers Kratos. "The day will come when he is proven thoroughly wrong."

"Hopefully it won't be at our brother's funeral," she bites. "That man has an ego as big and unproductive as the Flanoir continent. He won't budge until something bites him in the nose, and that would be a nice 'maybe'."

"This war is going to outlive us . . ." Kratos gloomily foreshadows.

Bia foreshadows, "At this rate, the war is going to outlive the Kharlan Tree if it doesn't stop. It's wilting badly . . . No one seems to notice."

"I keep bringing it up at the meetings," Kratos mentions, "but each time I'm put down because they have a new 'strategy' that will have all the Sylvaranti begging for mercy. 'It will end soon' they say and 'The tree will keep living.'"

"Those fools," she says. "I wish you were in power to do something."

"I don't know what my options are," he states. "If I were to take matters into my own hands then I would be betraying the royal family and the empire. I just . . . I don't think I have the heart to do that."

Bia watches him for a moment. Kratos meets her eyes. "What?"

Bia smiles and tells him, "As a wise man once said, 'What is popular is not always right. What is right is not always popular.' Betraying the empire to do what is right doesn't take the kind of heart to do so but the strength to do so. You have that strength. I know you do. You just haven't found it yet."

Kratos narrows his eyes. ". . . I suppose you think of me as some sort of hero-to-be. A—what?—Kharlan hero? Humph . . ."

"Well, the Kharlan ground is where it all started," she comments. "The land is just too difficult to continue to battle there."

Kratos doesn't let her optimism get between him and reality. "No, Bia. I'm not a hero. I could never be . . ."


	3. Suspisions

I was typing this up after the first chapter and thought, "Hey! This isn't the second chapter! This is the third!" So here it is.

Zelos (Zelus, Invidia). He was the spirit of eager rivalry, emulation, enby jealousy, and zeal (in fact, that's where the word "zeal" comes from). He can be identified with Agon, the spirit of contest, and with Phthonos, the spirit of romantic jealousy. He was also the son of the Titan Pallas and goddess Styx.

* * *

Chapter Three: Suspisions

"Hey, look! There goes Bia! Sweet tart, isn't she?"

"Yeah. She's wearing that one dress again. See how it fits perfectly on her but it's too small for her chest? I'll bet the seams are screaming for mercy."

"Think she'll hand out the goods?"

"She's a smart one but it's worth a shot. Wow! To lie between her legs!"

"Shut up! Or her brother's might hear!"

Kratos leans towards them from behind and pleasantly asks, "Or who might hear?"

Awkward silence.

Kratos glares at the two as they cow away. He snorts and goes over to his sister, whose dresses need to be resized.

"Bia." His large-breasted sister turns to him. Kratos tells her, "Bia, you really need to get dresses that fit you completely."

"It does fit me completely," she says.

Kratos frowns. "No, Bia. Your dress is so tight around your . . . chest that men tempt themselves by merely looking."

Bia defends, "It's part of the style."

He shakes his head at her. "Sometimes I think you are one of the most sensible people alive and then you go and prove me wrong." He switches tactics, "Bia, I don't want you treated as some street prostitute. Get something that fits properly before men openly harass you."

Bia guesses, "You just found Corbus and Nash watching me, haven't you?"

"So?" he goes, knowing that she will turn that bit of information to her advantage. "If one person speaks about it then twenty others are of similar mind."

"Then again this is Corbus and Nash who you confronted," she points out. "You know how those two are. If they could get away with it they would sleep with every woman in this city."

A stranger's voice calls, "Hey, lady! Pull your top cover a little lower!"

Bia erupts into a deep, devastating red. While Kratos exerts all of his self-control, he pulls off his cape and wraps it around his humiliated sister.

Bia huddles deeper into the black cape and stares down at her feet. ". . . Please take me home."

Without another word, Kratos guides Bia through more discrete paths to the family mansion. As soon as the walls separate them from public eye, Bia leaves for her room. She opens the door to her large room and flips the light switch. A figure is exposed by the light.

"_Ahh!_" she cries, but then settles in gasps. "Zelos! Why the hell are you in my room?!"

Zelos keeps searching for whatever he's searching for. "No cussing, Bia. You know ladies aren't supposed to cuss."

"Don't act cute!" she snaps. "Why are you in here?"

Zelos starts looking through her shelves. "You borrowed a book of mine over summon spirits. I want it back."

Bia rolls her eyes. "That difficult thing? Look, it's right here." She moves over to his side and pulls the thick book from a lower shelf he's yet to inspect. "If you wanted it back then why didn't you just tell me instead of barging into my room?"

"I couldn't find you," he states. "So I started searching."

"With the lights out?"

Zelos just takes the book and doesn't answer her. Bia raises her eyebrows at him in response.

She guesses, "You are up to something . . ."

He gives her a pleasant smile and says, "Now, why would I be up to something?"

"I don't know," she goes, "but knowing you, it's big. What are you doing?"

He opens the book and starts flipping through the pages. "Just researching the summon spirits, that's all. No need to be so suspicious."

She puts her hand on the page he's now inspecting. "I'm more than just suspicious. I'm worried. What if you get into something that could ultimately harm you? Zelos, think about what you're doing."

Zelos just sighs with that smile still on his face. He places his hand on Bia's shoulder and assures, "What's wrong with a little research? If we all did a little more random research then maybe we wouldn't need magitechnology or at least find some clean resource other than mana to suck up. Maybe then the Kharlan Tree would have time to recover. Don't worry yourself, Bia; otherwise you'll age more quickly."

And he leaves with a casual air.

Bia just stares at where he was. She shakes where she stands. "He lies. This isn't just some random research. I know him. He's up to something bigger than he is and will get himself hurt. What am I going to do . . . ?"

"Bia?"

She turns and finds Kratos. He holds out his hand. "Could I have my cape back?"

"Oh!" She unwraps it from around herself and hands it to him. She watches him as he puts it back on himself.

"Kratos . . ." He looks up in response. Bia says, "Kratos, I think Zelos is up to something."

He responds, "If it's his typical 'up to something' then don't bother me about it."

She frowns deeply. "Kratos, he says he's just doing a little research but I have this feeling that he's about to get himself into something big and it worries me."

Kratos sighs. "What is he researching? You know he has a penchant for playing mad scientist."

"He is starting research over the summon spirits," she tells him. Then an idea comes to her and she gasps, "What if he's going to try to make a pact with the summon spirits?"

Kratos gives her a flat look. "Bia, we both know that Zelos isn't that much of a fool. Only those with elvan blood can make pacts with summon spirits."

Bia just continues to stare at Kratos with her anxious eyes. Kratos sighs in surrender and says, "But I will watch him to be sure that he doesn't hurt himself."

Bia eases. "Thank you. It's just . . . Zelos feels that he has to prove himself and I know that one day he will do something drastic to accomplish that."

"Don't worry, Bia," he says. "I said that I will watch him and I will do exactly that. If he gets himself into trouble then I will put a stop to it. In the meantime, do something relaxing. Worrying yourself overly much will strain you."

"I know how to take care of myself," she informs him.

* * *

Later that day, Kratos found Zelos in the mansion archives idly flopped on a chair seemingly skimming over a thick book. Kratos makes his selection of two books and joins him on a chair just across from him. Zelos notices his new company and looks up.

"Is that a good book?" he casually asks. "I never read 'The Many Ways to Annoy, Harass, and Disturb Your Relations.'"

"That's a shame," Kratos says without looking up from his book. "It's a very good comedy. What about you? What are you reading?"

"Just some things over the summon spirits." Then Zelos gives a faux smile and gracious tone, "Why don't you let me read that once you're finished, my wonderful older brother. I'm in need of new material."

Kratos looks up with the same faux smile and tone, "My darling baby brother, you could easily surpass this novel in material."

The tension in the air couldn't be missed as those two got back to their reading.

". . . Why do you have two books?" questions Zelos, noting the second book just lying at Kratos' side.

"You will find out if we're unfortunate enough to have Father mysteriously appear," is the answer.

"Don't jinx us . . ."

Zelos turns a page in his book and continues to read through the text. Kratos himself continues to pretend to read the book . . . Alright, he does read through it. There are some things he might try for revenge in case Zelos pulls another prank on him. Fire against fire may be the only method to get him to stop messing with Kratos for a while. Nothing else seems to work.

The door opens. Kratos quickly and stealthily switches his two books and pretends to read the decoy.

The footsteps approach, and stop just before them. ". . . What are you doing?"

Kratos answers, "I'm only studying the different tactics used in the past, Father. Something might become of use."

"Very well. I need to speak with you in two hours so don't lose track."

Zelos narrows his eyes as he prepares himself for the coming scolding. In the corner of his eye he sees his father lean down to see the title for the book he studies.

"Summon spirits? Why are you wasting your time over summon spirits? You could at least study something of use like Kratos is."

Kratos mentally cringes at his mention. This won't help things at all . . .

Zelos sarcastically states, "Maybe Sylvarant will send a half-elf to make pacts with the summon spirits of their nation. It would be devastating if they could harness the power of a summon spirit."

"Don't play smart with me, boy," slurs the aging man. "Half-elves are nothing more than extra animals to send after the enemies soldiers. Do not even think that they have any power over us."

_And yet they can use magic where we can't_, Zelos critically thinks.

The book is ripped out of his hands and slammed to the ground. His father shouts, "Stop wasting your time and go do something with it!"

Anger flares in Zelos' eyes. "Ever think that perhaps I'm preparing to do something with it?!"

"With the _summon spirits?!_" the man snaps. "Get your head out of your ass and wake up!"

Zelos gets up and grabs the book. He gives a challenging glare to his father before storming out.

Kratos gets up to go after him. A hand grabs onto his sleeve and stops him.

"Don't waste _your_ time trying to blow his ego back up," hisses the man. "He will finally learn when his self esteem is brought to the level it should be."

Kratos growls, "Maybe he would be more receptive to you when you stop antagonizing him."

"I'm not about to spoil him," his father comes back.

"Then I suggest you find a happy medium." Kratos breaks free of the man's grasp and leaves.

When Kratos finally finds his brother he sees the young man pouring over the book with obvious concentration. He ignores the "don't bother me" signs and moves over to him.

"Don't bother. I'm not going to listen to you," Zelos tells him.

"Don't take what Father said to you out on me," Kratos counters. "I'm just worried that you might get yourself into trouble."

"Fuh. More like Bia was worried that I might get myself into trouble and asked you to watch me."

"And we all have reasons to be worried." Kratos reminds, "You caused a minor explosion in the Tethe'alla Research Institution just three months ago."

"It's not my fault they didn't properly label their chemicals."

Kratos places his palm on his head, knowing full and well that they did properly label their chemicals. Zelos was just making an excuse.

"Anyway, what do you want, Favorite?" Zelos snips.

Kratos sighs at his long-hated nickname. "For your sister's sake as well as my own, please just tell me what you're up to. It will save us a lot of stress if you just tell us and not leave us guessing. We're almost afraid that you will end up getting yourself killed."

Zelos puts down his book and gives Kratos a flat stare. "I'm not an idiot, Kratos. I'm not about to go visit the summon spirits and try to make a pact with them when I don't even know how to."

"No, but somehow you will end up getting killed. Remember when you signed up for the Coliseum?" he prompts. "If that healer weren't there then you would have died."

"That was years ago when they had competitors fight monsters instead of each other," Zelos defends. "I've been improving since."

Kratos switches tactics, "Then at least for our sakes when Bia switches from worried to angry and confronts you herself."

"How would you get hurt?" he questions.

"Punishment for not stopping you . . ."

Zelos leans back and smirks, knowing how indomitable his sister can be when push turned to shove on extreme matters. Then he sighs before he explains, "I don't even know the full scale of this. I just have an idea and I'm looking into it before I start doing anything. Since I'm not going to tell you or Bia or anyone else about this before I have a clear picture, all you can do is hope that I hit a dead end on this. Now go see what Father wants before he starts searching the place for you."

Kratos gets up. "Be careful."

After he leaves, Zelos smiles to himself. "And to think that this is only step one."

* * *

"Did you find out anything?" asks Bia.

Kratos shakes his head. "Other than that he himself doesn't have a clear picture of what he's doing, no."

Bia worries, "He doesn't have a clear idea of what he's doing? This is why he caused that explosion in the Research Institute three months ago! That idiot is going to kill himself!"

"Relax, Bia, and take your medicine. You're acting bipolar again," he says.

"Very funny," she snips. "If you won't do anything then I'm going to find out for myself."

He stops her from charging off. "He isn't going to tell you a thing at this point. I'm just going to watch him for a while and get back to him when he has a clearer picture of what he's doing. If he starts doing anything then I'll confront him. Don't make things difficult."

"Kratos," she says, "he may be doing this to prove his worth. He hates the fact that he's still stuck in your shadow. He might become more reckless in this because of that."

He reminds, "Zelos is studying the summon spirits. Only someone with elvan blood can deal with the summon spirits. Considering that he doesn't even have a drop of elvan blood, I doubt that he can do much where this is concerned."

Bia stresses, "You forget that this is Zelos we're speaking of. If anyone can find a way for a human to deal with summon spirits, he can. If he finds a way to successfully make a pact with a summon spirit then whoop-de-do; this war may finally end. It's just the how that worries me."

"As I keep saying, don't worry about it. I will keep an eye on him."


	4. The Requirements

Bout time I finished this chapter.

Bia (other names yet to be provided). Force. Background like parantage and how she became one of the four minor demigods to be honored by Zeus is already explained. I really have nothing to say this time. ^^ *sweatdrop*

* * *

Zelos sits at his desk reading deeply through his book. "Hmm . . . So only people who can manipulate the flow of mana can make a pact with the summon spirits. That means only half-elves and elves after all. . . . There's gotta be another way . . ."

Bia enters the room. "Zelos, I was sent to tell you something."

Zelos turns around and sees her. He instantly shouts, "OH SHIT!! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU—oh. Hi, sis. New make-up?"

Bia sees red. Her fury can't be missed. She rounds up on her twin brother ready to pay him back in kind via fist.

"Wait!" cries Zelos. He scrambles to put on the night spectacles he uses during late hours. "You wouldn't hit a guy wearing glasses, would you?"

Bia rips the glasses off his face and balls her hand up in a hard fist.

"_Not the face!!_"

_Thuk!!_

Two hours after Bia left in wrath, Kratos comes in with obvious irritation. "Zelos! What the hell are you doing?! You were supposed to meet me at the entrance hall!"

Zelos turns from his seat to Kratos with a nice black eye. "I was?" he gripes. "I guess I never got the memo."

"Bia was supposed to tell you," his brother informs. "She had a message from Father that we were going to inspect this new invention called a mana gun."

"Oh . . ." Zelos rubs the side of his face in strain. He really shouldn't have egged Bia on . . .

"You said something, didn't you?" Kratos guesses.

"Yeah."

"That will explain why she's in such a bad mood right now."

Zelos exasperates, "She's _still_ upset? I thought she'd be over it by now."

Kratos gives him a look. "I can tell you that I might need to buy a new punching bag. The thing is starting to lose its stuffing because of her. She has been on to that thing for two hours straight."

"Ouch . . ." Zelos grunts. Now he _really_ shouldn't have egged Bia on . . .

"Just watch your cheek," Kratos snips. "In the meantime, you can come with me to help inspect this mana gun."

Zelos gets up from his studies and follows his older brother out. "Wouldn't Father have sent only you out, Favorite?"

Kratos narrows his eyes at the hated nickname. "I am so sorry that Father thought to give you some busy work aside from your studies that he has now officially labeled as 'useless'."

Zelos frowns. "Usually that nickname doesn't get that strong of a reaction with you. What's the matter?"

"None of your business."

"Fuh," Zelos snorts. "Typical."

They travel to the army's sector of the Tethe'allan capital and wait at the place where they were directed to meet the person to present the mana gun.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Aurion brothers."

The two turn and find Major Asand approaching them. Kratos asks, "Are you the one presenting the mana gun?"

"Yes I am." Asand motions towards the shooting range. "This way. I have soldiers testing some prototypes."

Asand guides them to the shooting range where weapons zap and shoot at long range targets. The presented weapons are long and require two hands to hold it level and give off a loud charging noisy as mana is sucked from everything around it and shoots a different element out at a distant target with a piercing bang.

"Ingenious, aren't they?" Asand admires. "I was hoping to revive the ancient mana cannon from Sylvarant's old reign of the world. The only drawbacks are the amount of time needed to load them and the fact that they absorb mana from even the soldiers but it pays off with its deadly power."

"Start explaining," Kratos prompts.

While Asand gives Kratos a sugarcoated speech of how wonderful the mana gun is, Zelos walks over to one of the soldiers and taps him on the shoulder. The soldier stops his practice and impatiently regards Zelos, seeing him as an intruder rather than a high ranking noble.

Zelos says to the soldier, "I'm with Lord Kratos for weapon presentation. Let me see that."

Zelos takes the gun from the offered hands as he makes a silent vow to never allow his brother hear that he just called him "Lord." No, he would rather starve than tell Kratos that.

Zelos scrutinizes each part and mechanic of the weapon, dissecting the entire workings with his mind. This weapon takes mana and transmits it into a spell: a manipulation of mana. If he can find the source . . .

Then he finds it: a thin metallic ring between the barrel and the load. Carbopolymorphus. A metal that absorbs a low amount of mana that can be used for mana flow manipulation if combined with more advanced magitechnology. It could work, except that it, like most other mana absorbing metals, is venomous to the organic body. Even if it could allow him to control enough mana to make a pact with the summon spirits it would kill him as soon as its lethal compound settled in his body, which can be done through the skin. Fortunately he refrains from touching the metal.

Zelos hands the gun back to the now irritated soldier and leaves as the round of shooting restarts. He returns to his brother's side and tunes Asand out as the major goes on and on and on and on and on about how the mana gun is the future of magitechnological weaponry. Throughout the entire droning humdrum, Zelos was able to rule out six different magitechnology metals of mana manipulation and calculate the chances of three other metals. Then it finally ends . . .

"Thank you for your presentation, Asand," Kratos hastily states. "I will report to my father, your commander, about the new mana gun."

Asand says, "Be sure to set it for approval."

As he leaves with Zelos tagging at his side, Kratos reminds, "That is not my call to make."

As soon as they were out of Asand's range, Kratos carps, "What a windbag. I could barely sort through between cold hard facts and the glorification added in to impress me."

"I saw the mechanics of the gun," Zelos adds. "The absorption mechanism is the carbopolymorphus metal attached to it. The weapon is an inefficient design and the input outweighs the output by too much. It shouldn't be sent out."

"I see," is the response. "Thank you. I suppose your mad scientist tendencies really do have a productive means for them."

Zelos' eyes glimmer with knowing. "Oh there's a lot more purpose to my mad scientist tendencies then what you just saw."

Kratos speculates, "If we could cultivate the elvan aionis ore then we would have a much more sufficient efficiency than carbopolymorphus."

Zelos raises an eyebrow. "Aionis?"

"You don't remember?" his brother groans. "You talked my ear off about it for days on end when you read an article from Sybak over that one pebble they had of it and all the properties they discovered about it."

Zelos smirks at the memory. "Yeah, I really did talk your ear off." Then his smile fades to speculation. "Aionis . . . In Sybak, huh? . . ."

Kratos regards his younger brother for a moment. "I could take you to Sybak for you to see it for yourself."

Zelos widens his eyes. "Really? You would really do that for me?"

Kratos nods. "Why not? I am being deported there at the end of the week, after all."

Blood drains from his face. Kratos is finally being sent into that hellish war? Why? "That's . . . That's not . . . So that's why you were in such a bad mood today . . ."

Kratos' eyes soften into something he never saw since their mother's funeral. "It's alright, Zelos. It's alright. Besides, you're returning back home after you see the aionis sample. I need someone to protect Bia and Nike while I'm gone."

Zelos snorts, "Fuh. So Father isn't going to care enough to keep them safe?"

"There are no safe havens left in the world for anyone. Not even the Kharlan grounds." Kratos locks his eyes with Zelos'. "Take care of them."

Kratos walks away, leaving Zelos behind, frozen into a stunned silence as he watches his older brother slip away.

* * *

"BIA!" cries Zelos. He rushes into the court to the exercise corner they always called "the corner of sweat" and at the demolishing punching bag that his twin sister is still wailing at, this time for pure entertainment.

"BIA!" he cries again. Bia turns . . . and changes from joy to rage at the very sight of her offending twin. She jerks her fist back aiming for him.

"_It'saboutKratos!_" he wails as he whips his arms up in defense.

Bia stops her attack and pauses there. ". . . I'm listening."

He explains, "Kratos is being sent to Sybak to join the military stationed there!"

Blood drains from Bia's face. ". . . When?"

"The end of the week," he reports. "When he told me . . . he . . . well . . . Bia, it was almost like he was saying goodbye to me, like I was never going to see him again."

Bia stares at him almost expecting her twin to suddenly say that he was just messing with her and mockingly laugh about how he fooled her so easily, but it didn't come. Zelos just kept his stance, his pale face, his grave eyes. Realization pierces her, and she dashes off out of the courtyard to who-knows-where.

Zelos shudders into a hang. "This isn't fair . . . ! I now know that I need to study aionis but I have to give up my brother to the war? This . . . This isn't . . . This isn't fair . . . !" He shudders again. "Damn this war . . . !"

* * *

Can you see where this is going?

Please review.


	5. Plans and Promises

This isn't that big of a chapter, but it pushes our two Aurion brothers to Sybak where some real action is supposed to happen (I don't plan my stories. if i do then they turn into crap.)

Nike (Victoria). The spirit of victory, stength, and speed and is the divine charioteer. She flies around battle fields and grants glory and fame to the victors. She is depicted on statues and murals to have wings. This is exceptional to her brothers and sister because, according to the classical myths, the other three have shed their wings by the time Zeus gains control over Olypeus. It's said that she was also very close to Athena, Zeus's dauther and the goddess of wisdom and war (Ares is the other and main god of war).

Nike keeps her wings to remind people that victory can be fleeting.

* * *

Zelos marches into the palace hall. His eyes zero in on the man called "Father" and strides right to him.

". . . assure you that the palace is perfectly safe, dear princess."

"Very well. It is so unnerving with those Sylvaranti people camping just outside of the Sybak line."

"Those barbarians are not going to get any closer—"

"Father!" Zelos barks.

The general narrows his eyes. "Pardon me, Your Highness." He turns to Zelos. "What?! Whatever you have to say can wait until the princess is finished speaking with me."

Zelos hisses, "No, I'm afraid it can't, Father. Not when one of the three lives I actually place value on is at stake."

The general glares at his son. "It. Can. Wait."

Princess Soleille says, "General, I am quite sure I can wait. After all, what Zelos must say sounds urgent."

"I am of differing mind," responds the man. "Usually he prattles on about useless subjects."

She replies, "No, no. I speak of only my baseless worries. A nice day to you."

After she leaves, the general turns against his son. "What?! What can be so important that you interrupt a discussion between myself and the princess? Don't you see that the less she has to do with us the less of a chance your brother has to gaining the crown?"

Zelos tartly responds, "Well, yes, I do. And speaking of my brother, _why the hell is he being sent off to Sybak?!_"

The general leers. "Kratos is my heir. As my heir, he must get a feel for what it takes to lead men into battle. So far he has only participated in battle. Now he must take another step up. A lazy brat such as you would never understand."

"I understand perfectly," Zelos hisses. "What I don't understand is why he must join the fry now during . . ." Then he understands. ". . . You mean to assault the Sylvaranti campsite."

"Of course, you idiot," is the response.

"_You're the idiot!_" Zelos shouts. "This is a perfect moment to call up a peace treaty! All those years of war, of destroying the Giant Kharlan Tree, of wasting lives over both kings' hurt feelings! Now you're just wasting it!"

"I will not bow down to those Sylvaranti barbarians!" he shouts back. "After Tethe'alla destroys them I will have genocide against those animals! They are all nothing but parasites!"

"People like you are the parasites!" Zelos counters. "All you do is suck mana out of the earth and kill our only source of life in order to win against a squabble that none of us even remembers how it started in the first place!"

"Now I have a _son_ who has become one of those tree lovers?!" the general exclaims. "You shame the Aurion name!"

Zelos snaps, "How do you figure that?! How am I a shame because I'm one of the few who actually cares if our only source of life dies over a war that will be forgotten after a hundred years—"

THUCK!

Zelos falls to the floor with his jaw in immense pain. A coppery tinge snips at his tongue.

"Be grateful that I didn't knock your teeth out."

Zelos curses as his father's footsteps storm away from him.

* * *

In the Aurion manor, Zelos waits for his brother while reading over the article of Sybak's aionis sample. Two suitcases rest by his side and his rapier hitched to his belt.

". . . What happened to you?"

Zelos looks up at his newly arrived brother and responds, "Father. We didn't agree over a few things about this war."

"Zelos . . ." Kratos sighs.

Zelos holds up a hand. "Don't. I don't want to talk about it. Right now I just want to see that sample and pray that you don't get yourself killed."

Kratos watches him for a moment and sets his small bag down and digs in it.

"Where the others?" Zelos asks.

"My other bag is already there. This is just supplies from here." Kratos pulls out a bottle. He opens it and hands it to Zelos. "Be sure not to swallow it. Just spit it back in the bottle and I'll dispose of it."

Zelos leans away from it. "I hate gels. They smell so nasty. I can only imagine how they'll taste."

"Do you want your teeth loose?" Kratos questions.

"Fuh." Zelos takes the bottle and pours it into his mouth. He shudders from the taste and works not to throw it up. After a moment, he finally spits it back into the bottle and hands it back to Kratos. "Thanks . . . Even though that was the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted in my life."

"You're welcome," is the reply. "Grab your bags. We're leaving now."

"Wait . . ."

The two stop and turn to the tiny voice. Nike stands there with her kitty doll.

"I wanna say gudbye . . ." she utters miserably.

Having a soft spot for the youngest like his other siblings, Kratos sets his things down and kneels to her level. "I'm not going to be too long. I will return before you know it."

She watches him with sad eyes. "Two hou's is too long. Now you and Selos are gone."

Zelos goes down to her. "We're not gone. We're just staying somewhere else for a bit. I'll be back even sooner than Kratos will."

Nike sniffs. "Still . . ."

"Where's Bia, anyway?" he adds.

Nike answers, "She didn't wanna say gudbye. She said it was too sad for her."

Kratos sighs in exasperation. Why did Bia have to say that to Nike? Did she realize that it only made things worse for the four-year-old? "Nike, I promise you we will return safe and sound. Alright?"

"Promise?" she goes.

Kratos nods. "Yes, I promise. I never broke a promise before."

To add a bit of light to their sad conversation, Zelos inserts, "Unless it's him promising not to hit me for doing something stupid."

Kratos counters, "I believe that explosion in the Research Institute can be counted as an acceptable exception."

It doesn't work. Nike just ignores that and turns to Zelos. "Promise?"

Zelos assures, "Yes, yes. I promise."

Nike finally gives a small smile. ". . . Okay. You come back. You both promised."

Zelos does his best to smile with his usual casualness.

Kratos pets Nike's long hair. "Goodbye, Nike. Tell Bia we said goodbye."

"Okay," she responds.

Zelos puts his hand on her shoulder. "Nike, we'll be back. We'll tell you cool stories about Sybak and the stupid things some soldiers did."

Nike actually giggles at that. Meanwhile, Kratos is shooting a warning glare at Zelos behind Nike's back. Some stories from soldiers are not the most child appropriate . . .

Zelos smirks back at his brother. That man should know better about his brother to know that he'll keep his stories clean. Well, only when Nike is around. For other times . . .

The two brothers pick up their luggage and head out.

"Bye. Be safe," wishes Nike.

Kratos and Zelos both give farewells and leave. After a few steps away from their home, the look back and spy on the window to Bia's room. She stares down at them and solemnly waves. Zelos nods in reply before they leave the area. A pit forms in their stomachs. To come home safe . . . While that may be easy for Zelos, it won't be for Kratos with what the king and the general have in mind for Sylvarant.

* * *

Yes, it's short. Review, please.


	6. Sybak

Things are starting to come together plot-wise. So I'm turning up the heat.

* * *

"Right this way, my lords," says the staff member. He guides them through the halls of the Sybak research center. They pass through hall after hall with only dull colors drifting before their eyes.

Zelos mutters to Kratos, "I don't know about you, but I'm finding it hard to understand how anyone can get inspired enough to even look something up, let alone invent."

Kratos utters back, "I'm already falling asleep on my feet."

The staff member opens the door. "It's right in here, my lords. The aionis ore."

Upon entering the room Zelos' eyes go wide at the sight of the aionis. There it rests upon an enclosed pedestal circled with testing equipment long unused and gone unnoticed by Zelos.

"Look at it," he goes. "Look at it! It's wonderful!"

Kratos scrutinizes it dubiously. "It looks like it's just an average street side pebble."

Zelos snaps at him, "It's not! Don't insult the aionis ore like that!"

Kratos holds his palm up. "Calm down. It's just a rock."

"Just a rock. Just a rock?!" Zelos turns back to the grey pebble. "The metallic gleam . . . The mana just swirling around it so naturally and efficiently yet enough for a human to sense . . . Such a wonderful phenomenon to feel the flow of mana . . . This isn't just a rock! Imagine all the things we could do if only we could harness the power of the aionis metal!"

"Shame it's an alien metal from a comet," Kratos blandly puts, completely uninterested.

Zelos only hears his words. "Yes, it is a shame. I wish it were a native metal. Then again humans would've dug it out and exhausted the ore hundreds of years ago if it were. Maybe I should be grateful that it isn't native to this planet."

Kratos snorts, "Humph. Have fun playing mad scientist." With that he leaves with the staff member.

Zelos puts his brother aside once he's alone and begins to think. "Hmm . . . The aionis ore: nontoxic to the human body even if ingested and the most powerful and efficient mana manipulating metal in the world."

He starts going through his thoughts. "Now, since it's nontoxic, I could shape it to anything I want and not experience any sort of consequences that would lead to death, unlike blunt metals such as charged lead and carbopolymorphus. I need something small and portable that will be attached to me so it's less likely to be lost. An earring will suffice. Then again, any kind of jewelry can easily get ripped off or stolen or lost if detached from the body. I would need it directly attached to me to get better control over it. Would a tattoo . . . ?"

He imagines himself getting a tattoo and jerks his head back and forth. "No—absolutely not. I don't want a needle anywhere near my body. Besides, I don't think aionis can be easily grinded into a fine enough powder to mix with ink."

Zelos sighs. "Come on, Zelos. You're missing something. Review over the basic facts. What is the aionis ore originally used for? It was originally used by the elves as a catalyst for mana manipulation. Every twenty years for ten days while the comet Derris is in range of the planet, the elves travel to the comet to mine some of the ore. This practice continued until mana started running thin about two hundred years ago due to the use of magitechnology and completely halted in most magic usage when it started to wilt during this war. Today the elves use the mana leaf herb for any magical uses and . . ."

Then he realizes something, ". . . and also digest the herb if an elf is magically disabled. That's it!" He snaps to the aionis. "I might be able to digest the aionis if I grind it thoroughly enough! The magical properties are similar enough to the mana leaf herb for the herb to become something of a substitute. Why shouldn't the opposite work? Aionis isn't toxic and its magical properties should be able to be absorbed by the body. So even if the metallic part of the aionis is disposed of by the body, the magical properties should be extreme enough to become a part of the body. That could actually work!"

Zelos stares longingly through the glass chamber of the aionis at the ore itself. His hand touches the glass . . .

He sighs, "But the only way I can get this is if I steal it. Ah, damn. It's not like I can just go up to the head of this facility and ask if I can have this so I can eat the thing and get to cast spells. They'd be laughing as they called security in. What a road block . . ."

* * *

Kratos joins the watch on the lookout tower. "What is the situation as it stands here?"

The first soldier turns and goes, "Lord Kratos! Sir! The Sylvaranti are active but they're just staying in that one spot. We keep seeing people moving in and out all the time."

Kratos frowns. He peers out to the Sylvaranti camp. "They're planning something."

"We kinda figured that," the third soldier comments. "The thing is . . . what?"

Kratos continues to peer out at the camp. He takes the binoculars out of one of his belt pockets and focuses in on the camp. Something isn't right . . .

"They're stocking up on weapons and supplies," he calmly states.

The second soldier worriedly asks, "Does this mean they're going to attack?"

Kratos holds a grim air as he lowers his binoculars. "It seems likely. I need to speak with the officers."

"Sir!" calls the fourth soldier. "Two figures coming from the east just south from the Sylvaranti camp!"

"Give me a description," Kratos orders.

"A woman and a lad. They don't seem related." Then the soldier adds, "They could be half-elves, though. The woman has this long green hair and the lad looks almost human but that blond hair is just a little too . . . you know."

"'Could be'?" goes the first.

The fourth clarifies, "Well, they're still some ways off so I can't really see details. They could be elves."

"You orders, sir?" prompts the third.

Kratos watches the two figures as they scurry across to Sybak. They could be Sylvaranti spies but he could never, never in his life, ever stomach killing a woman and a child because of unconfirmed suspicions.

"Let them in," he directs. "We will hear what they have to say and judge if they really are spies or just straggling fugitives. However, don't let them out. I don't want the Sylvaranti forces catching hold of them whether or not they are spies."

Kratos leaves and moves down to inform the commanding officers of his decision. Some disagreed and some agreed, but they would hear the visitors in any case whether they liked it or not. When the two figures were well within sight range it was confirmed that the two are definitely half-elves. With an irritated "humph" at the bigots making a fuss, Kratos directs more trusted soldiers to meet them before they reach the gate and escort them through a side door and to the commanding office where he would speak with them. Upon the dismissal of those soldiers, Kratos moves to the commanding office and waits for them.

Some time later, three of the nine officers join him just before two soldiers escort the two half-elves into the office.

As one of the lookout soldiers had said, the two didn't resemble each other, and yet they did seem related. They had the same face shape and just the way they stood by each other supporting one another seemed evidence enough of their blood relation.

The blond lad, seemingly fourteen in age, says, "We . . . We came here to warn you. Sylvarant is planning to attack!"

One of the officers snaps, "And why should we believe you?"

Kratos glares at the officer. He gets submissive silence in response.

With control back in hand, Kratos replies, "I gathered as such when I saw weapons and supplies being moved into the camp not too long ago."

"We came here as fast as we could," the blond continues. "They plan to attack . . . was it tomorrow?"

The green-haired woman, pale with worry, shakes her head. "No, it was today. I heard those soldiers clearly enough."

Kratos just calmly states, "This is serious information. How did you come across this?"

The blond answers, "My sister and I were traveling from the Gaoracchia Forest. We were hungry and lost and needed shelter. When we saw the camp we thought it was a Tethe'allan campsite since this is Tethe'alla. We didn't know how close Sylvarant got until we were walking with this group of people delivering supplies to the camp. One of the leading soldiers started talking to the man in charge of the caravan and we overheard everything he said."

"And when was this?" Kratos clinically questions.

"This the night before last night," the blond recalls. "We couldn't get out until yesterday, but it just gets worse!"

The same soldier bites, "We don't have to listen to any of this. We're Tethe'alla! Those Sylvaranti barbarians wouldn't dare attack us!"

The blond loses his patience and rounds up on that soldier, "Tell that to their captain! He's got everything organized and planned out! He knows all your defenses and how all of you are going to strike back! If they're 'barbarians' then what does that make you?!"

"Mithos! Stop!" the woman yells.

The blond turns to her. "But Martel—"

"No buts!" she scolds. "You aren't helping anything by yelling and screaming!"

The blond sighs in reluctant surrender.

Kratos narrows his eyes. He turns to one of the officers and questions, "What activities of the camp did you fail to inform me on today?"

The officer hesitates. "They . . . They had a supply caravan come in two nights previously."

"Thank you for informing me belatedly rather than not informing me at all," Kratos bites. "Especially since I asked for a full report as soon as I came in." Kratos turns back to the siblings. "Who is their captain?"

The woman answers, "Ka-Fai. I remember that his name is Yuan Ka-Fai. We wandered the camp while we were trapped inside and coincidently stopped by his tent. He was reviewing over the entire strategy for his officers, telling them what had been done and what still needs to be done. Everything was planned out perfectly for them."

"Do you remember how he planned the assault?" he questions.

The woman nods. "Yes. I believe they plan to start by—"

_KACHOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!_

"We're too late!" the blond exclaims.

* * *

I did a late-nighter on a school night to get this started and finished. I'm tired . . .

Please review.


	7. Battle

OMG, she's back!

Yes, I'm back from my Confessions binge. In this story we're about halfway done.

Fun Greek Myth Fact: Although Ares is the god of all the unpleasant things of war such as death, carnage, and violence, each time he himself gets injured he runs to Zeus for protection. So, in one way of speaking, Ares runs to pimp-daddy Zeus to have his owies kissed.

_

* * *

_

KACHOOOOOOOMMMMMM!

First he heard the sound; second he felt himself soaring into the air; last he felt himself crash into the floor with debris flying everywhere. Zelos slowly gets back up, his flesh screaming from the pain of this sudden shock.

_KACHOOOOOOOMMMMMM!_

Zelos snaps his head to the other explosion and, through the holes of this building, discovers another building tumbling down. Reality slaps him in the face as he grasps what is going on. He shoots up to his feet and whirls around, instinctually searching for something. His eyes land on a single small stone and he reaches down towards it, feeling the mana around it swirl and flow.

Zelos snatches the aionis ore from the ground and pockets it. No one is ever going to be able to find it after this anyway.

As another building is blown away, Zelos staggers from the shockwave caused by the explosion. He climbs the piled debris to the top of the crumbling wall and peers out. As he suspected in horror, the Sylvaranti have finally attacked. Out of their camp come great balls of fire and explosives, landing on whatever building unfortunate enough to be in the way. With a quick glance towards the damage done to the building he was in, Zelos realizes just how lucky he was as he sees that the damage done around him was merely from the shockwave of the initial explosion. He peers down at Sybak, spying people running in a panic and scrambling for cover. To him they resembled ants in an overturned ant bed.

_KACHOOOOOOOMMMMMM!_

"AAHHHH!" Zelos cries out as the shockwave to that sends him falling. He tumbles onto a lower level and rolls down before dropping down to the ground. He lands with an "oof!"

He gets back up with a hasty thank you to his overworked guardian angel and mutters, "I have to get out of here!"

"They're coming! They're coming!"

Soldiers rush around trying to find their weapons which were blown away during the first attack.

"Hurry! The Sylvaranti are coming!"

Innocent citizens of Sybak flee in horror as their enemy approaches.

"To arms, men! To arms!"

Zelos scowls as he backs away into the remains of the building he stands about. Ideas form in his mind as he plots on how to fight despite the lack of years of training. He will be back . . .

* * *

Kratos looses slight balance at the first explosion. He rounds up his soldiers and commands, "First get the civilians out of Sybak! Absolutely do _not_ go near unsound buildings!"

The blond child, seemingly around fourteen, declares, "I'll fight too! I'm Tethe'allan myself!"

Kratos bites, "Absolutely not! You will only get in the way! You!" He addresses the boy's green-haired sister. "Get your brother away from here before he gets himself killed!"

She almost seemed reluctant to leave but obviously knows better. The woman takes her brother in hand and drags him away despite the fact that he struggles and protests.

Kratos rallies the soldiers and sends them out. Despite his best efforts, even making sense of all the chaos surrounding them was a nearly impossible task. While the enemy Sylvaranti army still refrained from coming into Sybak, Kratos focuses on getting the remaining civilians out of the city. Concerning his brother, Kratos could only hope that Zelos has enough intelligence to get out of the city before the Sylvaranti army massed inside the walls.

After the last blast, a soldier's voice cries out, "They're here!"

Kratos snaps his attention to the direction of the Sylvaranti camp and finds their army charging in. Immediately, Kratos attempts to organize his men but all in vain! Chaos now rules the Tethe'allan troops. Kratos now sees that Sylvarant has already won this battle. The fight is now for survival.

A rheaird hovers overhead with two figures riding it. The soldier in the back leaps down and slices his halberd down to the ground for a killing strike when he lands. Kratos leaps away and the halberd's blade crashes into the ground and sends dirt flying in the air. The soldier turns the failed attack into the starting move of a combo and slashes at Kratos with the precision and lethality of a battle dance. It takes all of Kratos' skill just to dodge him. Their blades lock with a _crash!_

"Damn Tethe'allan bastard!" the soldier curses.

Kratos makes no reply but considers who he has for a father and wishes that he were a bastard. He'll take the social censorship; it's worth the trade.

The two slash at each other in a wild frenzy of blades, slicing wounds into their flesh yet never able to place a killing blow. The soldiers around them battling appear as nothing but blurry backdrop as they whirl around in this deadly fight.

* * *

A bullet gun: the ancient ancestor of the mana gun and the mana cannon. Zelos could see why people changed back to swords when technology became advanced enough to where supplies of bullets weren't needed anymore since the weapon became useless once a person ran out of ammo. A sword, on the other hand, could always be used even if it was just a rusty slip of iron. Then there was just making sure the lower classes couldn't get their hands on something that they could use even without proper training and also making a clear distinction between the upper and lower classes.

Other than that it's a good weapon.

After shattering a display case for the weapon and ammunition, Zelos quickly explored the weapon and its mechanisms to learn how to use it before hastily loading it and storing the spare bullets in his pocket (the one without the aionis ore). As he hurries out of the destroyed building, Zelos reminds himself to be sparing on the ammunition since he only has twenty bullets. If he's going to shoot then he had better be making one damn good shot.

Zelos rushes out to the crumbling walls where the Sylvaranti army is flooding in and takes a good look around from his hiding spot. He spies his brother battling with a high ranking soldier and immediately realizes that he won't be able to get a shot at the enemy soldier without harming Kratos. Still, he can protect his brother's back.

Zelos spots a soldier getting a little too close to his brother and aims the gun . . .

_BANG!_

The soldier goes down and crawls away in agony.

"Get a clean shot, Zelos," he scolds himself. "Clean shot." He aims again for other soldiers getting too close to the fight and works to take them down. Zelos quickly realizes that using this weapon is a lot harder than it seems as he tries to aim for the gaps in the Sylvaranti armor. The point is emphasized by his twelfth shot.

_BANG!_

_TWANG!_

The bullet ricochets off his target's metal armor and into the ground right next to Kratos' feet, causing the man to jump like a startled cat. If it weren't for Kratos' quick reflexes, his Exsphere, and his instinctive block, the soldier he battles would have killed him right then and there.

"Shit!" Zelos curses. A shadow covers over him once more. He curses again, "Shit . . . !"

Zelos whips around and fires out a shot at the Sylvaranti soldier who snuck up on him. The soldier goes down and a second and third gang up on him.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The second soldier falls down dead and the third goes down in agony. Zelos hurries to the man and yanks off his helmet.

"I'll make this as quick as I can," he promises as he aims the gun for his head.

_BANG!_

Zelos turns away before the body falls. He takes the moment to gaze down at the weapon in his hand. It was so easy to kill them. Too easy. That fact frightens him.

"Killing shouldn't be this easy . . ." he mutters to himself.

_SCHIIIIEEEEE!_

Zelos leaps into the air and scrambles to see whatever that was. "What the hell?"

The remains of the eastern wall collapse before a small hoarding dragon about twenty feet tall from the front talons to the shoulders. On its back is a mage saddled next to a large ruin that clearly holds magical properties.

Zelos exclaims in protest, "You have got to be kidding me! Controlling a dragon? That's ripped off from cheap adventure novels!"

The dragon roars as it breathes hellfire down on anything and everything before it.

". . . It's effective, though," Zelos reluctantly admits as he grimly witnesses the destruction. He huddles down in cover from the destruction. "Let's see, I have two choices. Option one, I could refrain from freeing the dragon and let the army control it and kill countless soldiers. Option two, I could free the dragon from whatever spell it's under and probably end up getting killed and the dragon would be free to kill everyone but it will mainly go after the army that abused it." He nods. "I'll go for option two. Better them than us."

Zelos makes a break for the dragon as people run from the beast. The mage on its back overlooks the one person charging at the dragon from the side and focuses on destroying as much as he can. Zelos climbs up on the saddle and aims his gun for the mage who finally notices him.

"Aaah! Someone!" the mage cries.

Zelos pulls the gun's trigger and the mage collapses off the dragon's back. He takes the mage's place and glances over the ruin controlling the dragon. The ruin itself is made of iron but the major catalyst is a cottony leaf at the very center. He identifies the leaf as a Mana Leaf Herb—

_THUCK!_

"GAAH!" he cries out as a sheering pain rips through his right leg. He retreats his agonizing injured leg and quickly rips the Mana Leaf Herb off the seal.

The dragon, which was previously motionless due to the loss of the controlling mage, jerks as if waking up and snarls menacingly. Its front talon swipes at Zelos and yanks him towards its face, roaring with rage. Then it stops its rampage as it sees that the expected mage is now replaced with another. It narrows its eyes in anger.

"Ifreedyou! Don'tkillme!" Zelos rapidly shouts.

The dragon snorts at him and apathetically tosses him to the side before roaring into the sky in protest against the censurable insolence of the way it was treated. Zelos hits the ground and fades out in stun.

_

* * *

_

RRRAAAAUUUUHHHHH!

Kratos and the high ranking soldier halt their battle and gasp at the raging dragon chaotically tearing everything up and killing everyone, citizens, Tethe'allan soldiers, and mainly Sylvaranti soldiers. The previously controlled dragon brings down its wrath in a rain of fire and talons.

Kratos snarls, "Great job, idiot! Now you have a dragon that's killing everyone and everything in sight! This is why we don't bring dragons to battle!"

The soldier shouts back, "Like you can criticize me when you lost!"

"As if you're a great strategist yourself!" Kratos bites. "Another victory like this and you will lose the war!"

"I don't need a lecture from you!" the soldier snaps as he hurries to evacuate his men.

Kratos searches the area for any of his men and finds none . . . but then he finds his brother slumped against a wall. Panic chokes him as he races to his brother's side. He can't die! There's still so much they need to make up for! Is he going to lose his brother when they still hate each other? That would be . . .

"Zelos!" Kratos cries out when he reaches the young man. "Zelos, wake up!"

". . . I'm awake . . . ! Just dizzy . . ."

"At least you're alive," Kratos sighs. He gets his brother up with one arm around his shoulders and his own arm supporting Zelos—

"_Ah! AH!_" Zelos yelps out. "Careful! My leg!"

"Bear with it until we get out of here!" Kratos nags.

"You're horrible!"

"You're welcome."

* * *

The dragon destroyed all of Sybak and burned most of the Sylvaranti camp down, killing a massive amount of people no matter if they were soldiers or civilians. Although Tethe'alla suffered greatly, they learned a lesson given to another for one of the worst mistakes arrogance can create in a war. At least Sylvarant suffered too many casualties and fatalities to take advantage of Tethe'alla's condition, giving Tethe'alla time to recuperate. Still, the damage on this side is considerably grim.

The green-haired half-elf searches the camp with her brother at her side for the human who gave them a chance, even if it didn't help. They find him with the other injured standing over one particular person.

"I'm sorry, my lord. The leg will have to go," the human doctor says.

"I'd rather die! You're not sawing this leg off!"

The human who listened to them tries, "Zelos, would you really rather die than lose that leg? Think about it for a moment."

"No! I'm not losing this leg!"

The human shakes his head. "Then you're going to disappoint Bia and Nike. Cut it out and listen to the doctor."

The blond turns to his sister, "Martel, you can heal. Can't we pay him back for treating us like equals? Most humans don't even treat us like people."

Martel states, "I can't guarantee that I can save his leg, but I can try."

The two squeeze in and Martel addresses the human. "Excuse me."

The currently-nameless human faces them. "It's you. Are you and your brother alright?"

Martel nods before she glances at the young man on the pallet and back at the human. "This is your brother, right? I can see the resemblance."

The human looks back down at the complaining young man. "Unfortunately our appearances are the only thing we have in common."

Martel states, "I can use healing spells and attempt to save his leg, Mr. . . ."

"_Lord _Kratos," one of the human doctors snaps.

Martel's brother attempts to defend her—

"Just Kratos," Kratos corrects. "After this I don't deserve any sort of title or honor. As for my brother, are you sure you can save his leg?"

"Just try and save my leg, dammit!"

Kratos ignores his brother as he informs, "There was an arrow in his leg and when the dragon from earlier grabbed him and tossed him aside, the arrow ripped off and tore most of his flesh off. I doubt it can be saved at all."

"I prefer a useless limb to no limb at all!"

Martel bites her bottom lip. "I can't save it all, but I can make it to where it can be used as long as there is some sort of aid to help him walk."

Kratos motions to his brother. "Then please, do something."

Martel kneels down next to the young man.

The young man, Kratos' brother, glares intensely at her. "You!"

Martel prepares for the worst verbal barbs.

He hotly gripes, "I don't care _what_ you do! I don't care what needs to be done! Just save my leg, alright?"

Kratos growls, "Shut up and quit whining! Let her work and maybe she can save your leg!"

Martel smiles, feeling the faith and trust placed upon her. "Now I'm absolutely certain that I can do quite a bit." She begins healing . . .

* * *

Not my best writing but it's a nice chapter.

Please review. Especially after giving you that little tibit about Ares the Greek god of war.


	8. Refuge

So we're about halfway done with this fic. Not chapter number wise (i don't think) but in plot.

As a reminder, the Zelos in this fic isn't the same Zelos that we all know as Zelos Wilder.

. . . Just the fact that I have to put in a reminder tells me I should update more often.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Refuge

The half-elf Martel worked a miracle. In one of the many military boats Meltokio sent out to evacuate anyone in ruined Sybak, Zelos gawks at the leg that should have been sawed off let alone able to function. Sure he has a severe limp now but just the fact that he can use it without a cane is a wonder. Martel watches him from a distance and giggles.

Mithos looks up from the sea view passing by. "What's so funny?"

Martel shakes her head. "Nothing. Just the way he stares at his leg is like how a little boy watches something with awe. It's so cute."

Mithos states, "He might not even thank you."

Martel smiles. "His awe is reward enough."

Coming around a corner, Kratos approaches his brother and shares a few words. Zelos speaks some and causes Kratos to raise an eyebrow as the only indicator of any emotion. Kratos replies something only to have Zelos shake his head and say something while he points at Martel and Mithos. Kratos glances at the two half-elves before approaching them.

Kratos stops just before them and says, "As a thank you for saving my brother's leg, Zelos and I will be happy to offer our home to you."

That gets him two stunned expressions from the duo. Mithos goes, "Really? You're not just telling us that, are you?"

"If I had any objections I wouldn't relay my brother's offer," Kratos points out. "Although I would have him tell you himself, it is just more convenient for the both of us considering his limp if I tell you in his place."

Martel leans around Kratos and spies Zelos' eager expression watching them. She replies to Kratos, "We would love to accept your hospitality. However, are you sure you have no objections? We _are_ half-elves, you know."

Kratos frowns. "There is a problem concerning our father. My family lives together rather than separately so we all live under the same roof. Our father . . . He is rather . . . hostile towards half-elves. That is my only problem with offering our home to you. Considering what you have done for us, I would rather you not be exposed to his bigotry. However, it's somewhat unlikely that you will ever encounter him now that hostilities between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla have renewed and will demand all his time."

Martel concludes, "We can avoid him if needed to be. Please allow us to take this offer."

Mithos walks away from the two and approaches Zelos while he reaches into his pack and pulls out a sample container. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stone. Mithos senses an unusual mana flow around that particular stone. While Zelos places the stone into the container, he asks, "What is that?"

Zelos just places the sample container into his pocket and answers, "Something I managed to salvage from Sybak."

"Okay . . ." Sensing that Zelos isn't going to give him a real answer, Mithos then questions, "Are you really inviting us into your home?"

Zelos grins at him. "Why not? I need to thank you and your sister for saving my leg. I would be a complete cripple if it weren't for her."

Mithos points out, "But we're half-elves."

"So?" Zelos dismissively replies. "I still need to thank you."

Mithos tilts his head. "You're weird . . ."

Zelos smirks. "Save that for later when you see my mad scientist side."

* * *

When the ships arrive to Meltokio, Kratos leads Mithos and Martel to his home while giving slight support to Zelos to help him go faster than his limping leg can carry him. Refugees crowd into designated areas set up in a slapped-together haste and a grim air hovers over the city. Although questioning glares hone right to the half-elvan siblings no one bothers to make their resentment public, especially not to two high-ranked nobility.

"Lord Kratos!"

A messenger hurries to Kratos. "My lord! The general has summoned you."

Kratos makes a slight scowl and releases his support to Zelos. "I'm afraid I must leave."

Martel replies, "We understand."

Kratos departs with the messenger.

Zelos watches with a scowl. Dark wishes strike against his father the general before dismissing the mood and turning towards Martel and Mithos. "Let's just keep going. Now that Kratos is gone, the bolder civilians will antagonize us. Miss, if you help me and we make it look like I'm too injured to walk, no one will bother us."

Martel looks at him skeptically. "Are you sure that will work?"

Zelos shrugs. "Not entirely but it's worth a shot."

Martel holds Zelos up across her shoulders and he leans over her in just the right way where it appears as if she's providing a large amount of support. Mithos scowls at Zelos while the two arrange this but doesn't utter a single protest. When they finally start walking and eventually reach his home, Zelos' plan appears to have succeeded. Mithos reluctantly notes that nothing is wrong with the scenario since never once did this strange human take advantage of the situation and touch his sister in any inappropriate fashion.

Zelos abandons the illusion and departs from Martel to open the door. With a hand gesture, he ushers them inside. "Welcome. I'll talk to the servants and my sister about you two. In the meantime, make yourselves at—"

"Zelos? Is that you?"

Bia comes down the stairs with Nike in her arms. She stares at the three while Nike whines and cries for Bia to put her down. Bia inattentively sets Nike down on her feet and Nike rushes up to Zelos and throws her arms around his legs.

"Seloooos!" Nike cries.

Zelos lifts his four-year-old sister up in his arms and holds her comfortingly. Then he addresses Bia, "This is Martel and Mithos. They're our guests for right now. Could you escort them to guest rooms?"

Bia doesn't remove her eyes from the two half-elves. ". . . Father is going to throw a fit."

Zelos' eyes turn cold. "Father could go straight to hell for all I care about him. Martel saved my leg from getting sawed off. She's a healing genius. I want her and her brother made comfortable for as long as we can."

Bia jumps to and apologizes, "I'm sorry. I'll do what I can to make them comfortable. It's just . . ." She approaches Zelos and takes Nike into her own arms. ". . . if Father catches them then it will be horrible for all of us. I don't want them to experience anything like that for what they have done for you."

Zelos tells her, "Then make sure things are arranged so that we're all given a fair warning to hide before Father arrives in a particular place. Can you do this while I put my things up?"

Bia raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can do this? I mean, hearing that your leg nearly got sawed off . . . Can you manage stairs?"

Zelos whines, "Please, Bia! Don't make a fuss about it."

Bia snorts at him and greets the two half-elves graciously. Zelos takes his bags and steadily climbs the stairs, albeit with a struggle. Once he arrived on the second floor where his room is, walking became a lot easier to manage. A servant spots him and his limp and opens the door for him and takes his bags as soon as he makes it to the door.

"My lord," the servant, a middle aged man that has been with the family since Zelos' mother married the general, hesitantly asks, "are you well? Then did Sylvarant really attack us? Are we truly in danger?"

Zelos approaches his study desk and pulls the aionis ore out of his pocket. "I'm fine. Talk to Bia once you're done and have a generous mind. Anyway, yes, Sylvarant attacked. Sybak is now a heap of rubble."

The servant pales and pauses in unpacking. Zelos ignores him and focuses on the aionis that he set down on his desk. He murmurs something.

The servant asks, "My lord? Did you say something?"

Zelos peers at the servant for a second before politely saying, "I can unpack by myself. Thank you for your help. I need you to go to Bia and talk to her about our two new guests."

"Guests, my lord?"

Zelos nods. "Yes, guests. Ones that my father would never approve of. The woman is a healing genius and saved my leg from being sawed off. They are our guests to repay them for that. Treat her and her brother well."

The servant narrows his eyes in thought and nods just before leaving. Zelos allows the silence to continue before finally muttering his notes to himself.

"I can't ingest the aionis ore by itself like this," he murmurs. "It's too much of a concentration." He begins pacing, slowly due to his limp. "I need . . . to grind it. Like medical solids. It'll be a long process . . . but I can do it."

Zelos pauses for a moment as he stares back at the pebble in the sample container. He resumes pacing.

"That half-elf . . . Mithos was his name . . . He could easily sense something about that tiny piece of stone. I could tell since the first question he asked me back on the boat was inquiring about the ore itself." Zelos then comments, "The aionis is possibly too strong for me to ingest it as I personally am right now. I need to be strong enough to take the physical and magical change the aionis will cause within my body."

He pauses for a moment. ". . . An Exsphere. An Exsphere increases the body's abilities and allows it to exceed its natural limitations. I can use that." He paces again. ". . . But where can I get one?" Then he stops once more and states, "I can get one from Father. He keeps his Exsphere as an emergency tool. The old fool believes that the only place where it belongs is on the battle field and that needing one outside warfare shows only weakness. I can easily get his from his store box as long as I'm quick enough to get to it before Sylvarant attacks. By the time the war renews, I'll need to get one from an already limited supply."

Zelos turns to the aionis. ". . . The clock is ticking. I better start grinding that thing into powder before time runs out."


	9. The Other Side

. . . As I'm announcing in the other fics, I'm redoing my Kranna story. It hurt a lot to delete so many chapters, but it was an abuse to the story and to all my characters to leave it as it is so I had to redo it. I believe I can do better so that's what I'm doing. I'm rewriting it.

Anyway, this is another "linking chapter" that brings a lot of situations that will happen later together.

* * *

"Give me at least a viable excuse as to why you breached orders and arranged that fiasco."

Glaring down hell and wrath, the leading admiral keeps his temper in check as he waits for his subordinate captain to provide an answer for arranging the use of a dragon—not that it will spare him from punishment. After requesting for the capture and use of a dragon in battle, Yuan Ka-Fai gave a straight, flat no to the entire plan, informing the captain who came up with the idea of all the unnecessary risks presented—and recently proven—by a captured dragon. Even after an official denial in verbal and paper forms, the captain still had the gall to port an enslaved dragon from the Asgard continent and store the beast in the dense Gaorachia Forest where no one could see without running into the monster.

What a shame that such a captain holds a rebellious streak.

"An excuse?" smarts the young Captain Lark. "Fine. It's because of that dragon that we won."

Yuan narrows his eyes. "I asked for an explanation, at least a _viable_ excuse."

"Well, you got it."

Yuan evenly bites, "It's because of that dragon that we lost a considerable fraction of our men. We were lucky it didn't deem the civilians worth the effort to burn along with our army. Another so-called 'victory' like that and we may as well surrender to Tethe'alla."

"But they lost their base," Lark points out. "Now they're hiding in the capital. My dragon did that!"

Yuan remarks, "Obviously you are unaware of the damage caused by that damn dragon. You can spend the rest of your time here repairing that damage." The admiral holds out his hand. "Hand me your captain's badge."

Lark stares in disgusted shock at Yuan's hand. The demoted soldier puffs his chest out with rage and humiliation before his hand reaches around to his shoulder and steadily rips off the badge. Lark drops it in Yuan's hand and walks out.

Yuan jeers, "I strongly recommend you pick up a hammer and repair the damage to buildings while you're waiting."

Once Lark finally disappears from sight, pleasant silence sooths Yuan's temper.

_Shhhah!_ "Sir!"

Of course it never lasts.

A soldier hurries in and reports, "Sir, the Tethe'allan soldiers and civilians have all been evacuated. Also, that dragon has been spotted fast approaching the Sylvarant border."

Yuan nods in acknowledgement. "I see. Thank you, soldier."

"Sir, I have one question. It may be none of my business . . ."

"Then don't ask."

". . . but wasn't that Captain Lark who left with that dark look on his face?" the soldier finishes anyway.

"_Former _Captain Lark," Yuan emotionlessly corrects. "Yes, it was Lark, and yes it really was none of your concern. Lark isn't someone you need to worry over. Just focus on your duties."

"Yes sir." An expression of concern appears on his face. "Sir, I say this out of concern for you, rumors about Lark have been going around and I believe he's someone you need to keep an eye on. I mean no offense, you're one of the best I've seen, but the royals sitting on their asses who don't see the battle tend to favor humans over half-elves. Lark might twist the story."

Yuan flatly assures, "After what happened with the dragon, I am watching him. Once we can afford the men to replace him, Lark will be dismissed. Also, what did I just tell you? You don't need to be concerned over Lark. That's my job."

"Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed."

The soldier leaves without another word. Yuan is once more granted sweet silence. With a grim face, he writes down a report for his superiors of the recent battle and the results as well as the failures. After that, a recounting of his men, his supplies, and the damages done by the battle. Once that is finished, Yuan takes out new sheets of parchment and write out requests for more men, more supplies, and for other forces to move to the Sybak region in order to execute an attack on the capital of Tethe'alla.

* * *

"Oww . . ." Zelos groans as his hands fail to grind the aionis ore into even pieces. All to show for his efforts are cracks dancing along the surface. He sets the pestle in the mortar he collected and massages his hands. Perhaps using the same method to ground herbs isn't the best solution for a rock (which would sound obvious after putting it into words). Then again, the fault may lie entirely on Zelos' raw strength and endurance.

He needs his father's Exsphere.

As long as the general wasn't home, it was only a matter of walking into the study room, grabbing the Exsphere, and walking out. If he was home then it was a matter of waiting until he left. It wouldn't really be as hard as anyone suspected. After all, if he was sneaking around his home like a thief then his activities would be put into question. It _is_ his own home after all.

Zelos sets the mortar and pestle on a shelf of valuables that he ordered the servants not to mess with and walks out of his room. With a casual saunter, Zelos wanders through the halls of his home and meanders to his father's study.

". . . and how are the efforts concerning relocation of the refugees?"

Zelos diverts his direction and conceals himself behind a corner. Two sets of footsteps walk out of the study, one belonging to his father . . .

"I believe they're going well. We are able to reorganize the militia a lot fast now as well."

. . . and Major Asand.

"What of Kratos and his activities?"

"Kratos' activities are relatively ideal and tactical. As for Kratos himself . . . He seems rather unusually unapproachable."

"Let him sulk all he wants. As for Nike . . . ?"

". . . Do you still insist that Nike is some paragon of victory? She's a mere girl of four years!"

"The seer said that my blood will bring a child that will put an end to those who do a serious crime against this world. Considering that the seer told me that the child is yet to be born and that Nike wasn't even conceived yet, I think he meant my youngest child."

"But . . . Nike is a girl!"

"Although the majority of females are useless twits, do not expect every woman to be powerless and brainless. I'm not narrow-minded as to think that it isn't possible for a woman to become strong."

Asand remains silent as the two leave before their now-faded voices pick up in conversation again. As soon as Zelos hears silence again, he slowly moves into his father's study, his thoughts filled on the reason for his father's obsession over Nike's status as a good luck charm. When he passes the study's door, Zelos shuts it halfway and begins glancing through the study, trying to remember where his father dedicatedly placed the Exsphere. After glancing at the desk for a third time, Zelos' memory jogs and he hones in on the little decorative box on the desk. He lifts the lid on the box and finds a small red gem embedded in golden lining. The object gleams with a surreal sheen in the light.

Zelos' hand slides the Exsphere into his pocket and quietly, and calmly, walks out. His feet carry him around the mansion, pausing in certain spots and wandering into certain halls, before finally reaching his room. Once retreated there, Zelos softly shuts the door. His hand pulls out the Exsphere and he examines it. He flips it over to expose its back to find some sort of solution that attaches the object to the skin (remembering how they were equipped on soldiers) and finds nothing. Recalling that these things are magic, Zelos goes by a whim and presses the Exsphere onto the back of his hand. He releases the pressure and is surprised to discover that it remains where he set it. He waves his hand back and forth yet the Exsphere doesn't fall off.

With that, Zelos returns to his own desk and pulls off the mortar and pestle. After setting the project on his desk, he renews his efforts to grounding the aionis ore into powder.

The aionis easily cracks and breaks down into finer parts under this new pressure.

* * *

Well, this end of the chapter explains a few things.


	10. Turning of Events

Hey.

Been a while, hasn't it.

Anyway, this chapter is really short, but it does the job I want it to.

* * *

Yuan Ka-Fai supervises his soldiers' training with sharp eyes. Even if he doesn't get the approval to advance, there will be a battle in the upcoming future whether it be Sylvarant that strikes first or Tethe'alla. Now that the war is renewed no one can afford to slacken their skills. Even Yuan trains to keep his battle skills in keen shape. Some claim that he trains even harder than his men but all Yuan does is necessary rather than excess.

"Sir!"

Yuan spares a glance at an approaching soldier. "What is it?"

"Lark has been found massing a number of soldiers for unauthorized activities!"

"What?" Yuan exclaims. "Under so little time?"

The soldier hesitates before saying, "Sir, there are men who believe that Lark would have been a better admiral than . . . 'some half-elf' and that you stole his position."

Yuan narrows his eyes as he questions, "Are they staging a mutiny?"

"We don't know, sir, but it's clear they're planning to do something. They're meeting right now so we might be able to apprehend them before they do anything."

"Then we don't have any time to waste, now do we?" Yuan dismisses.

Yuan gathers a number of his troops and hurries to the indicated spot where Lark and his rebellious men are congregating. How fortunate it is that Yuan has at least some men of his own that are loyal to him despite his race. How fortunate it is that Lark decided to gather men in a more isolated area of the camp where a large group of soldiers would be more than noticeable. How fortunate this, how fortunate that, the list could go on and on. Either which way, Lark must be stopped.

The soldiers arrive at the meeting place—an old makeshift shack—to find that men are already fleeing. Yuan curses his luck and how fast gossip travels and orders his men to secure the inside of the shack and surrounding area—to apprehend and subdue but not to kill.

Yuan enters the building with the insurgents fleeing from his range. He ignores them and focuses on finding one man: Lark. Yuan shoves his way through and finds a table with notes, papers, and maps spread out with a list of names on some of the sheets.

And Lark gathering those papers.

Yuan wastes no time. He slashes at Lark and forces him away from the table covered with evidence pertaining to their developing plans. Lark backs away and around to the door. Yuan quickly blocks his way. In response, Lark flips a fallen chair over with his feet and kicks it at Yuan, forcing the admiral to dodge the chair and let Lark escape.

"If you won't fight with some backbone then I will! Tethe'alla is going down!" Lark declares as he flees into the darkness.

Yuan chases after him, but it was all futile.

Lark had escaped.

* * *

As his men gather the insurgents, Yuan collects the papers he found on the table. From the looks of things, Lark was planning a small attack on the Tethe'allan capital. He shuffles through the papers, searching for more information. Is it an upfront battle? No, it's guerilla warfare. Do they plan to attack soldiers? Yes, but more specifically the high ranked soldiers. The method they plan to use—

"Sir! We collected as many of the men as we could!" a soldier reports. "However, Lark and a number of his men still managed to escape."

"What is the estimate number?" Yuan questions. The papers inform that Lark planned to attack the high ranking soldiers during their off time. Times such as whenever they were eating, sleeping, resting with friends or family, and other such times. A paper shows a list of names of who to strike first.

"About over fifteen is my guess."

Yuan fishes out and offers the signing paper where soldiers signed their names to show their loyalty. "Here are all the names of the men who pledged their loyalty to Lark. I want them found and no excuses."

The soldier takes the paper. "Sir, what is it they planned to do?"

Yuan states, "They plan to attack the highest ranking soldiers in the Tethe'alla army. This may push Tethe'alla to attack before we can get the supplies and men we need to stage any kind of attack and force us to retreat. If Lark succeeds in this then we may lose the advantage we need to finally finish and win this war."

* * *

Finally. After three long days of crushing the aionis ore, the metal has finally been reduced to mere powder. Although resilient to fire, aionis is surprisingly brittle for a raw metal. Zelos lifts the mortar he used to hold the aionis and watches it with an anxiety building up inside him. The very raw power inside the aionis is so strong Zelos almost doubts that his Exsphere will be able to help him adapt to the change generated by the collision and mix of Zelos' own mana and the aionis' mana. It may even physically harm him.

Zelos has a servant bring up a glass of water. Seemingly innocent enough to everyone. No one will notice. After all, he has been working so hard over one little project that even his father ceased with his never ending campaign to turn Zelos into a mirror image of the general, although that particular factor can be contributed to the fact that Zelos is usually labeled as a failure in the man's eyes.

Still, why should he be so nervous? Zelos studied all the ins and outs about this, all the possible outcomes, and the side effects that could come and the majority of results Zelos found proved positive. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of other than his own fear and reluctance. If he doesn't even make some sort of attempt and move forward then how will things ever change if he won't even overcome his nervousness? They won't change, that's what.

"Selos?"

Zelos looks around to find that Nike followed the servant bringing him his water. Zelos takes the glass and sets it aside and gestures for Nike to come forward. Nike follows and stops just before him and starts to climb on his lap.

Zelos gently sets her back down. "I'm busy."

"You're a'ways beesy."

"I know." Zelos takes the mortar and scoops the aionis powder into his glass. "It'll end soon."

"I miss yoo."

"Me too." He stirs the water to get the powder scattered in the water rather than settled and condensed at the bottom of the glass.

"Can we play soon?"

"When I'm finished." Zelos holds the glass to his lips.

"When will yoo be finished?"

"Soon." Zelos drinks the glass down, shuddering against the taste of the powder and does his best to ignore the gritty texture of the water and powder as it slips down his throat.

"When will it be soon?"

Zelos takes the glass away from his mouth after the last drop is gone. An intense amount of energy wells within him. "Soon is soon."

"Soon isn't soon enuff."

". . . I . . ." Zelos shudders as a burning feeling, starting from the core of his being to the edges of his skin, begins to overtake him. ". . . I know . . . Ugh!"

"Selos?" Nike warily goes. "Selos?"

His stomach! His stomach burns and hurts as if he swallowed needles! The pain! Zelos coughs as the feeling of being stabbed by scorching hot needles climbs through his body, up his throat, flowing through his blood, everywhere! He hunches over, trying to hide the pain as much as possible, still aware of Nike's eyes watching him.

"Selos!" Nike squeals. "Selos!"

Zelos covers his mouth as he coughs again and feels coppery liquid slide off is tongue and onto his hand. No longer caring about anything but the pain, Zelos shoves himself away from the desk and attempts to hurry away to somewhere where no one will see him.

"_Selos!_" Nike screams. "_SELOS!_"

Zelos collapses as he continues to cough up blood. His entire body burns and the needles won't stop stabbing through his every nerve! All his energy incinerates and is consumed as quickly as the pain comes. His eyes begin to blur into darkness.

"_SELOS! SELOS!_"

Blood continues to fall onto his tongue even as his eyes fail. His breath fails. Then his mind fails.

His body turns slack while Nike collapses onto her knees and tries to wake her brother up. The only ones who could remove her were the servants who heard her cries.

* * *

Oh no! The dreaded cliffy!


	11. Fautian Dust

Yeah . . . I could blame writer's block all I want but really I have no excuse . . .

You may want to reread some of the story to pick some details back up again.

And this fic is almost done. I've got four more chapters after this one to plan and it'll be over.

* * *

When Kratos returned home, he didn't sense anything out of the ordinary. In fact, he was very certain that life was going to continue normally in the household for that day, as long as the Sylvaranti army was recovering from their failure to control that dragon they held captive.

However, as soon as the servants spotted him, his sense of security was proven to be nothing more than an illusion.

"Lord Kratos!" one servant cries. "Your brother—Lord Zelos—he's . . . !"

Kratos's eyes widen in shock. "What happened?"

The servant explains, "We don't know what happened, my lord! He wished to be left alone in his room and the next thing anyone knew we heard Lady Nike's screams coming from his room! We hurried there as fast as we could and found him—him . . . We found him spewing _blood_ and unconscious . . . !"

Half a second passes before Kratos bolts from his spot and races to his brother's room. His heart pounds as he fears the worst. He makes it to the door and reaches his hand out to slam it open—

Bia blocks his way. She holds a grim expression as she cradles a sobbing Nike in her arms while she stares Kratos down.

"Bia! Get out of my way!" Kratos growls. "What did that idiot do?"

"Zelos was taken cared of," Bia informs. "That half-elf healer, Martel I think her name is, made certain that he was stable."

"Then get out of my way so I can find out what happened straight from the horse's mouth," Kratos says.

"Barging in won't help his health," Bia points out. "Neither will questioning him harshly. Just take it easy on him, if you can."

With that, Bia steps aside. Kratos spares a glance at the door before turning his attention to Nike. ". . . Will she be alright?"

"As long as I'm around, yes." Bia promises, "She will be fine under my watch."

"If . . . If you say so . . ."

With that, Kratos opens the door and enters. He finds his brother sitting upright, facing away from the door, and the healer Martel by his side. Kratos approaches the bedside and stands there silently. With neither of them willing to speak first, a long silence passes . . .

Finally, Kratos speaks first, ". . . What happened?"

Zelos doesn't answer.

"Zelos, I need you to tell me," Kratos pressures. "If I know what is going on then I can get this taken care of."

"Fuh. This is irreversible," Zelos bitterly replies.

"Is it really?" Kratos says in a dubious tone.

"Oh, yes it is . . ." Zelos sadly states, "I got what I wanted, but I wasn't prepared to pay the price."

"Zelos, what are you talking about?" Kratos goes.

Zelos sighs. ". . . I can use magic now."

Kratos stares back, barely able to take in the full meaning of that statement. ". . . You can what?"

"I can use magic." Zelos explains, "I stole the aionis ore from Sybak and grinded it down into dust. I swallowed it down in powdered form in order to change my body and mana structure so I can use magic. I knew that the change would kill me if I just swallowed it as a normal human so I equipped Father's Exsphere." Then Zelos shakes his head. "Unfortunately, I needed something more powerful than an Exsphere in order to completely withstand the abrupt change. I . . . I suffer from the consequences of that now."

Kratos is rendered completely speechless from the shock.

Zelos sighs once again. ". . . Kratos, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to take my research and . . . and des . . ." Zelos gulps and forces the last words out. "And destroy it all."

"Z-Zelos . . . !" Kratos gasps.

Zelos lowers his head. "Kratos, look at me! I can use magic! I can't hide this forever! Think about what that could mean once Father and the rest of Tethe'alla find out about this! A human who can use magic? Once they obtain my research they will attempt to mimic what I have done! Think of every life that will die because of this process!"

"You used aionis," Kratos reminds. "The only way they can get that is by going to the comet Derris Kharlan, which only the elves can . . . reach . . ."

Kratos' expression turns grim as he realizes the next part of what Tethe'alla will do. Zelos smirks bitterly at Kratos' realization. "That's right," he confirms. "The last neutral land will fall and this entire world will be at war. Nothing is sacred to Tethe'alla or Sylvarant in all this. Not even the Great Tree is safe from the two forces."

Kratos remains silent.

"This is why I need you to destroy all my research," Zelos tells. "Everything that I discovered will end in pain since there is no amplifier stronger than the Exspheres we have today. If we had some sort of evolved form of an Exsphere, I suppose it will be safe, but we are no where near close enough to discover how to obtain such a thing. The world isn't ready for this sort of thing, especially not during a war."

"And you think that destroying your hard-earned research is the appropriate solution?" Kratos questions.

"Yes I do," Zelos sternly confirms. "You and I both know that this war will never end for us or any generations after us. This war will outlast all of us! I can't take the chance that someone will discover this during this damn war! Destroy it! Destroy it . . . it . . . all . . ."

Zelos droops back down, tears starting to flow down his eyes.

"Kratos . . ." he begs. "Please . . . Do this for me . . . I would rather my work be destroyed rather than it abused to further the selfish goals of bloodthirsty, power hungry warmongers . . . At least let me have my soul and to be able to rest in peace knowing that my work isn't used to end other people's lives . . . I started this in the vain hopes that I could help stop this war . . ."

Kratos bows his head. "I . . . I understand . . . I promise that I won't allow this to happen . . ."

"Th-thank you . . ." Zelos directs, "All the papers are on the desk or in the drawers of the desk."

Kratos moves over to the desk and picks up all the papers on his desk and everything in the drawers, regardless if it was for Zelos' experiment or not. Once all the papers and folders were gathered into a thick stack as wide as half as wide as Bia's head, Kratos crosses the room but stops just before Zelos, waiting for the final word.

Zelos snarls incoherently at Kratos' reluctance to do as he asked. He presses his lips together in frustration and forces the final damning words out: ". . . Burn it . . . !"

Kratos sighs and finally leaves.

When the door closes behind him, Kratos stands there in meditation. Then, he opens his eyes and turns to his sister Bia.

"Bia, come with me," he orders.

Bia blinks as Kratos walks off and follows after him. "Where are we going?"

Kratos doesn't answer. Instead, he merely shows as he goes down to the small family library and moves over to the section where folders and containers for documents can be found.

"Kratos? What is the matter?" Bia questions. "What are those papers? Are those Zelos'?"

"Yes, they are," Kratos confirms as he pulls out a box container for large amounts of papers and documents. He opens the box up and slips the stack of documents and research papers inside.

"But Zelos can handle his documents by himself," Bia says. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because Zelos is a fool," Kratos states. He begins walking away to a different part of the library with Bia following behind. "His work has the potential to bring good to the world and wishes to destroy it because of the possibility that it could land in the wrong hands."

"That doesn't sound like Zelos at all!" Bia protests.

"His . . . injuries backed this belief." Kratos stops and slips it in an inconspicuous spot. He turns to his sister and taps on the box meaningfully. "Should there be an emergency and I am unable to take these myself, I need you to take this box and store it in a more secure location. This will do for now until a better secure place can be found."

"But—"

"Just promise me this, Bia," Kratos pressures. "This is our brother's best work and it must be safe from those who would abuse it. We are the only ones who know where this is and we must keep it safe. I want it to bring the good Zelos wishes it would bring, at least in honor of him."

"You speak as if he will die," Bia hisses defiantly.

"Bia!"

"Fine!" Bia surrenders. "I promise! It will be safe!"

Kratos relaxes. "Thank you."

"Lord Kratos?"

Kratos and Bia face towards the entrance of the library. The two leave to answer the servant. Upon arriving, the servant reports, "Lord Kratos, there is a messenger with reports that concern both you and the General."

"Very well." Before he leaves, he turns to Bia. "Bia . . ."

"I already told you," Bia gripes, "I will—"

"Not that." Kratos bids, "Just be safe."

Bia huffs a sigh as she watches her brother leave.


End file.
